The Life and Times of Lars Hendrikx (With Mathias Køhler)
by Wannabe-Danish-Cookie
Summary: Lars Hendrikx cares only about two things: his family and his money. Mathias Køhler cares about everything except himself. They cross paths one too many times. NedDen, slight LuxBel. Underground AU. Mild cussing.


**A/N: I'm back!**

 **With a new story instead of updating because I'm a terrible person sorry**

 **I'll try to update PPPPO (Alliteration! :D) because why not?**

 **So here's a random thing with random pairings-**

 **Lars- Netherlands/Holland**

 **Bella- Belgium**

 **Henri- Luxembourg**

 **Mathias- Denmark**

 **Enjoy!**

 **.**

The turn of the century. A new beginning. A second chance.

That is what the news reporters all crowed about the year 2000.

Lars Hendrikx thought they were all nutjobs that needed to get a life doing something useful. It was just another year, another three hundred and sixty five days of being when the Earth made another trip around a star.

Well, three hundred and sixty six, because of it being a leap year, but one day didn't mean shit to him. Just another twenty four hours.

His sister thought all of this so-called 'negative thinking' was bad for his health, and chided him about it.

 _He was just being a realist_ , he defended, but stopped grumbling to her nonetheless.

He decided not to point out that if the multitude of drugs he took didn't kill him, nothing would. She would probably just look at him with that sad expression that she saved only for him and shake her head. He didn't need her pity.

Lars didn't need anyone's pity. He would much rather take their money.

After all, money made the world go round. An extra day would be nothing for a rich person.

That was his perfect ideal, so he took odd jobs and sold drugs in alleyways on the weekends. He was becoming rather infamous in the underground world, and he planned to keep it that way for max revenue.

Lars Hendrikx. Handyman by day, Drug Lord by night.

The authorities hadn't caught on yet; they were all rather stupid. Or maybe they turned a blind eye because so many of them were part of the underground as well. Most of the city was, after all.

Lars didn't care either way. He only cared about his money and his family. Being the legal guardian of his brother and sister, he was rather overprotective.

But he would do _anything_ to keep his siblings safe. After all, they were the stars that he revolved around.

And he would keep it that way.

.

Lars hung around a shady tattoo parlour, knowing that many of his customers liked to go there and ink up their already decaled bodies. Lars himself was perfectly clear, save for a midnight blue cobra arching along the side of his neck. It was a show of toughness, mostly, as most people viewed him as handsome rather than scary.

His ever present blue and white scarf hung around his neck, the head of his tattoo poking out with piercing red eyes. In his mouth perched a cigarette, trailing faint wisps of smoke. His arms were crossed across his chest, emerald eyes calculating.

A few people walked by, stopping for a second in front of him. "Ye sellin' dat new stuff aroun' here?" One of them asked in a heavy southern accent.

"Mm. 'Hundred E's per gram." Lars adopted a Scottish accent; it made him sound more foreign, ensuring the quality of the drug.

The man held out a wad of bills, which Lars traded with some powder in a bag.

They exchanged nods, and the group of men strolled away.

Lars tucked the precious bills into his coat, preparing to set up shop somewhere else, in case the men returned with the officials. He needed to stay out of custody to protect his siblings, after all.

Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted a spiky haired man in a trenchcoat. He looked rather shady, but Lars wasn't one to talk.

The other man noticed him, and walked over, waving.

"Hey there! You waiting to get a tattoo?"

 _Shady but stupid,_ Lars thought, staring blank-faced at the man.

"Hah, shy, aren't cha? My name's Mathias! You have pretty sick hair! Like mine! We could be the cool hair duo! That'd be sweet!" 'Mathias' continued, a blindingly idiotic grin on his face.

"Ya gonna buy or not? I don't need ya wastin' my time," Lars deadpanned.

The idiot's eyes lit up with recognition, and he snapped his fingers. "Oh! So you're one of _those_ guys! Nah, I don't feel like it today. Feeling more like a wasted kind of day. Maybe on Wednesday."

With that, Lars strode off, not wanting to listen to more of Mathias's chatter.

Mathias didn't follow.

.

After Lars sold off most of his product, he headed home.

It wasn't much of a 'home', per se, it was more of a location where he could rest, eat, and hide from the authorities. But it was where he lived with his family, so he didn't complain.

He stopped by a sweets shoppe on the way; they deserved a treat, and he earned more than expected.

He then trudged up three flights of stairs to their shared apartment.

Opening the door with his key, he was greeted with the usual scent of mussels and waffles on the stove and a 'hello' from his sister.

He was also greeted with a 'bonjour' from his brother.

"Henri? When'd you get back?" Lars kicked off his boots and placed the bag of candies on the dining table.

Henri, the youngest out of the three, was a rising businessman, and frequently traveled to Luxembourg on trips. He was very well off. This was one of his rare visits.

"Hmm? Oh! Just around noon, I think, right in time for tea."

Lars was astonished with how much his brother had changed, from the way he held himself to the way that he spoke. He was altogether more composed and a bit snobbish, so different from the optimistic child he loved.

"B-but-"

"Time for dinner!" His sister, Bella, chirped, carrying in a platter of fine seafood and high-class waffles drizzled in chocolate. "Henri bought all of this at the really fancy seafood market! There were so many _zeroes_ on the receipt!"

Henri blushed slightly, looking down.

"Thanks, Henri. Let's eat," Lars composed himself, stripping off his gloves and washing his hands thoroughly. He sat down at the head of the table, picking up a mollusc and lapping up the meat.

"Not bad."

"Aww, it deserves more than a 'not bad', big brother! It's _amazing_!" Bella gushed, trying and failing to eat primly in front of her new-returned brother.

"Yeah, Bella's cooking is really good," Henri piped up.

The two siblings looked at each other and laughed at the parallelism.

Lars almost smiled; they were so sweet.

"You both deserve more than that. Dessert is on me."

He opened up the bag of sweets, pouring the contents onto a tray: licorice pieces, classic gummy bears, chocolates of all sorts and varieties.

Bella's eyes lit up. "Oh boy, this is amazing!"

Henri also looked giddy, swiping his bangs out of his face to admire the candies. "What a treat! Thanks, big brother!"

"Hmm." Lars smiled softly, finishing up his dinner and popping a few licorice into his mouth. "All in a day's work." He stood, pushing his chair back, leaving his siblings to gorge on the rest.

He shut the door to his room, pulling out the stack of bills he had gotten just that day, counting it. He then locked it away in his hidden safe.

With a sigh, he shrugged off his coat and changed into black pants, unlacing his scarf. It _was_ more like a 'get wasted' day. He decided he would go to a pub and maybe knock off a few drinks from a generously drunk person.

Lars smoothed down his hair to cover his rather noticeable scar on his forehead, and walked out, pulling on his gloves and boots. "I'm heading out for a drink," he said.

"Call me if you need a driver!" Bella replied, waving with a gummy bear in her hand.

"Don't get too drunk!" Henri called with a mouth full of licorice.

"Mm," Lars locked the door behind him.

He descended three flights of stairs, and traveled briskly to the nearest pub, a rather flashy one. He wasn't much for bright and loud, but people there were all generous, unlike the seedy bar the next street over.

He pushed open the door and was greeted by a sight that made him want to leave: raging drunk people making out, people having sex in the corner, and people stripping.

 _The more drunk they are, the better_ , he argued to himself, suspiciously stepping around a couple on the ground and sitting down on the edge of a barstool.

Lars turned to the person next to him, hoping to snag a beer or two off of them. His eyes widened. "Y-you-"

"Oh, hi, Mister Shy Guy! Done selling? Nice to see you again!" Mathias grinned, downing two shots of vodka in one go.

"How-"

"I come here often. Y'know, a bottle or two of vodka every night keeps the doctor away!"

Lars sighed, massaging his forehead with one hand while the other one inched toward Mathias's vodka bottle.

"Uh-uh-uh! No vodka until you tell me your name!" The other man chided, lifting up the bottle and waving it.

How did he- _No one had ever noticed him stealing before!_

"My name is Lars. Happy? Now vodka." He held out his hand.

"You can have all the rest. Gotta go, bye!" Mathias left with a swoosh of his coat, disappearing amongst the crowd.

Lars shrugged, pouring a shot of vodka.

.

 _Ohmygodgetittostopkillitstopowplease-_

Lars groaned, covering his head with his pillow as the morning sun pierced through the curtains.

Oh _god_ , did his head hurt.

 _Drinking all that vodka wasn't a very good idea_ , he thought to himself grimly.

 _Screw Mathias._

 _Screw mornings._

 _Screw life._

Sighing, he rolled out of bed, crashing straight into the wall and face planting. _Wonderful_.

Bella, hearing the ruckus, rushed into his room, kneeling in front of him. "You okay?"

"Perfectly fine," he spat into the carpet.

"I could get you some ibuprofen..."

"We're out."

"I could buy it from that drugstore across the street-"

"No. Too dangerous," Lars cut in, pushing himself up to a sitting position, leaning heavily against the wall. "I'll go."

Ignoring his sister's protests, he stood, gripping the wall and his head, wobbling over to his coat and heaving it onto his shoulders. "Be back soon."

He tottered out of the apartment, stumbled down three flights of stairs and into the drugstore across the street.

Inhaling the comforting scent of cherries and permanent markers, Lars headed to the back of the store, browsing for the pink nail polish that Bella had wanted a while ago. Since he was here, why not buy it?

After finding it, he wobbled over to the pharmacy area, leaning on the counter. No one was there. "Hello?" He called in a hoarse voice.

"One second!" A man, half buried in boxes, rose, and walked over. "How can I help you, Lars?"

"The hell-"

It was Mathias. _Of course_. He looked no different than he had the other two times, despite having been drinking the night before.

"Some ibuprofen, please," Lars sighed, rummaging around for his wallet.

"Right up!" Mathias disappeared, coming back with a bottle of pills.

Lars pulled out a few bills, placing them on the counter, enough for both the nail polish and the medicine.

"See you soon!" Mathias shouted.

Lars had no doubt that he would be seeing Mathias a lot.

.

 **Yay. Now to go and update others.**

 **Reviews would be greatly appreciated.**

 **Tak and Best Wishes,**

 **Wannabe-Danish-Cookie**


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